


Sick of me yet?

by Burntblackfeathers



Series: Writing Games [23]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Fluff, Sick Character, non binary character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26710624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burntblackfeathers/pseuds/Burntblackfeathers
Summary: “How did my back feel when you stabbed me?” 18 minutes
Series: Writing Games [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1326800
Kudos: 1





	Sick of me yet?

“Hey Cal. How are you holding up?”

Cal moaned, burying their face into the pillow more and pulling the blanket up. Lyn bit her lip to stop herself smiling and came to sit at the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”

Another groan, “How did my back feel when you stabbed me?” They said, sending a glare over their shoulder that may have been more effective if they didn’t look so miserable.

Lyn pushed their hair back from their eyes. “I’m sorry for getting you sick, but to be fair, I did warn you.”

Cal said a string of very rude words which was cut off by a coughing fit. 

“Nice. Classy.” Lyn said. “I brought you soup, I’ll go heat it up while you wallow here for a while.”

She headed to the kitchen, her movements familiar as she set the kettle to boil and grabbed two mugs, lit the stove and heated the soup. 

Lyn filled a glass with water which she took back to Cal. “Here, you thirsty binch, sit up.” Another glare, but they did, draining the glass with the hint of a thankful look.  
“Come on, Cal. Come sit on the couch and I’ll throw your sheets in the wash.”

“Lyn. You don’t have to mother me, you know.” They said, but they didn’t protest as she pushed them gently towards the lounge room. 

“Oh hush.” She said, bundling up the sheets and chucking them in the laundry before passing them a bowl of now-hot soup. “I don’t mind. Eat your soup.”

“Sometimes,” they said, “I think you get me sick on purpose to give yourself something to do.”

Lyn gave them a soft glare of her own from the kitchen. “Need I remind you how you got sick? Playing nurse yourself, Calian. Less talk, more soup.”  
Lyn was sure that she wasn’t all that threatening pointing a wooden spoon at her friend, but Cal grinned and dug in properly. 

“Thanks, Lyn.”

“Yeah yeah.” But she was already speaking softer and coming over with two mugs of hot lemon honey ginger tea to sit behind Cal on the couch. “Scoot forward, I’ll braid your hair.”

They moved forward to let her run her hands through their hair and that’s how they sat for a while. The sun and fresh air peaking through. The tea warm and sweet in their throat, and deft fingers weaving tight braids only to unwind them and softly brush it back like an apology over and over again. 

“Thanks, Lyn.”


End file.
